Miserable Lies
by disputed
Summary: Rosalie never thought owning a party and costume shop in Gotham would lead her to the most crazed and dangerous man Gotham had ever seen, but it did. She can see past his scars, it's his eyes that really trouble her. When the soon-to-be Clown Criminal Prince of Gotham is intrigued by her, how will this change her fate? Their own madness consumes them both. Joker/oc
1. Chapter 1

**So this fic is going to try and see what the Joker would be like if he truly found someone...well, mad like him. It might end up as a dark end, I'm not too sure yet. Obviously, this is just the introduction and in later chapters, the Joker will find out what she's hiding. It's set about a year before The Dark Knight. I think I might drag this story out a bit.**

**Please review and follow if you liked :)**

**Trigger warnings: self harm, suicide, depression, etc...**

_Scars heal; it's just the reasons and memories of how we received them that bleed._

Rosalie could feel her eyes becoming heavier. They felt like weights against her flushed cheeks. All of her thoughts were swimming into an abundance of nothingness at once. She tried pressing onto her sore neck behind the green scarf she adorned, but it didn't help, the thoughts that came with that only made her more tired, just like when she ran a finger along the scars wriggled on her inner arms and wrist.

She was glad no one could see her doing it. Glad nobody else worked there, anymore. To keep herself from falling asleep, she decided to splash some water on her face in the old bathroom that was behind the counter on the left. As she locked the door, she allowed the light to flicker on and off for a few moments before looking into the mirror.

For a moment her heart stopped. On the mirror, someone had written in fake blood, '_smile_'. Probably one of the kids hiring a costume the other day, she thought angrily. Couldn't their parents just teach them to be good and nice?

Sighing, she grabbed some toilet paper and dampened it, wiping it all away and chucking the paper into the toilet. She watched the red soak into the paper oddly. Cringing, she stared in the mirror at herself, gripping the edge of the sink, allowing it's coolness to radiate in her hands.

Since her time in the hospital, she had been attempting to gain weight, like her doctor had told her to. She often forgot to eat though, especially before the hospital and if was difficult to think of food with her thoughts.

Her face was hallowed in, yet it retained a small bit of her innocent face in her cheeks, which once had been plump. Her eyes also were innocent looking; well, the large eye sockets that was. Her actual eyes were green, a bright green that was uncommon in most people, yet they shone with a dullness inside of them. The only emotion she could see in them was sadness and anger. The rest was all emptiness.

Underneath her eyes, darkness filled. It was a reminder of how little she had slept. Her skin was as pale as paper and admittedly she was beginning to look like a zombie.

Her hair was passable, she supposed. Rosalie had decided to stop cutting it and let it grow out and it now reached to the middle of her back in light, blonde curls. She wondered if she should re-dye the tips a colour again.

She always applied a generous coat of purple or red lipstick to her lips to deter people away from looking at her neck or scarf. She also applied mascara to her lashes, to see if it could hide her lethargy, she doubted it did.

"Geez, you own a party shop. At least act like you're alive, for the kids." She told herself, shaking her head.

She remembered what the one of the kids smeared onto the mirror.

'Smile'

She watched herself put on one of the most fake smiles she had ever worn, it even hurt to move her lips like that. It didn't reach the eyes at all. She allowed her facial muscles to relax and go back to nothing. Rosalie splashed some water on her face, opting to let it dry itself.

Sighing, she turned the flickering switch off and went back to the counter. No customers had shown up. Shocker. In all honesty, it had been a big success when it had first opened up. She supposed word of her... Situation had reached most of the people in the neighbourhood. Still, she didn't see how her misery effected the quality of their kids costumes.

In truth, she had only had two customers come into the shop that day. One was an elderly lady looking for presents for her young grandsons. The other was a pushy mother and her son, looking for a Peter Pan costume for a party. Rosalie had suggested electric shocking pens, she had grinned when she remembered the first time she had been shocked with one of those as a joke, the elderly lady wasn't so happy about it.

Placing the edges of her elbows on the table, she made sure her long sleeves covered what was needed and put her cheeks into her open palms, allowing her head to rest. Glancing up at the clock she saw that it was 4 o,clock, only one more hour to go. One more hour and she could be home. One more hour and she could see and feed Misery. One more hour and she could crawl underneath her covers and sleep.

Sighing, she remained like that and watched the clock. With each tick and tock she found herself keeping her eyes shut for longer. Tick, tock, tick, tock, tick, tock. Darkness embraced her eagerly and all too quickly.

"_Wake-y, wake-y."_

Rosalie slowly opened her eyes, ignoring the pain in her elbows and neck. Her heart hammered instantly at the unfamiliar voice she barely registered. Her vision was blurry.

She stood up, suddenly alert and then realised she was obviously still at the shop counter. She'd fallen asleep. How could she have done that?

Rubbing her eyes a little, her vision cleared. A dark mass infront of her transformed into a man and his clothes.

Rosalie's emerald eyes trailed up a black t-shirt and dark brown jacket to a slither of pale neck and chin. They lifted up a little more to reveal something...intriguing. The man had lips like any normal man had, but on and around them lay something entirely different.

Scars were etched on both sides of his face, coming from his lips, like several slashes of paint on a canvas.

On one side, the scars made their way up into one side of a Chelsea grin, the other not so. It was as if someone had begun something and not bothered to finish it.

Rosalie wondered if whatever had made them had cut all the way through or only on the outside? She wondered what it would feel like to have scars on the inside of her mouth, to run her tongue along them. She did so to her smooth mouth in curiosity.

The light highlighted all the bumps and edges of them and she studied them with detail. Of course, she, like everyone that had probably ever met him was wondering how he'd got them but she didn't reel back in disgust, like she figured most people did. If anything, she was intrigued at the grotesque look of them. After all, she had seen her fair share of scars too.

Rosalie found that she had been leaning in towards him and immediately reeled back. She studied the rest if his face though, she looked at his nose, on which she could see a light splatter of freckles. His hair was a greasy, dark blonde colour that waved in little sections messily. His jaw line was strong and his skin clear but nothing prepared her for his eyes.

His eyes were like a withering candle. They were almost dead yet still carried a little dwindling light of strange emotions. They looked almost empty, as if someone had drained the life out of them, apart from a small section, where she swore she could see an emotion inside of them. In colour they were dark. Darker than anyone's shed ever seen before, almost black. The colour of them and his pupils almost ran into eachother. Underneath those pained eyes, were dark bags, as dark as hers.

Rosalie almost gasped when she realised they had been staring into her own emerald ones since the moment she had been staring at him, she could have sworn they had had no focus a few seconds before. A pink tongue darted out to lick the corner of his lips where the scars began.

"Not exactly the, ah, most beautiful thing in the world to wake up to." The man's voice was low, husky and scratchy. It was a strange voice, belonging to a strange man.

The whole time she simply stared at him until she registered what he had said. She wanted desperately to avert her gaze from his eyes but she couldn't, as if he had frozen her there.

"Um, wha- , no. I mean no you're... fine, I'm just um, tired. Thanks for waking me up. I can't believe I fell asleep. What are you here for?" Rosalie stumbled over her words, wishing she could keep her mouth shut.

For a moment the guy's eyes widened a fraction before returning to their original, dark, empty state.

He smacked his lips together and turned abruptedly on his heel, looking at everything in the shop.

"Where, ahm, where do you keep your face-pain-_t_." The 't' was accentuated so prominently that it sent shivers down her spine.

Clutching at the counter for a moment she forced a smile on her lips. Walking from behind the counter, she began to squeeze her way past the man. At that moment, Rosalie realised how tall he truly was. She was lucky if her head reached his shoulders. Ducking around him, she walked to one of the shelves, seeing all of the tins with a coloured lid on each.

Turning to face him, she saw his face was mere inches away from her own. He was leaning down to her level. Taking in a breathe she ignored the way her heart beat irregularly, either from fright or something else. She could hear her own pulse in her ears.

The scars were so prominent but it was his eyes that really bothered and intrigued her. Something so strange should never be so close to somebody, so instead she focused on his scars. She looked at each crevice and nick and the new way they looked up close.

"Uh, what colours would you like? Do you want wash-off or long- lasting?" Rosalie asked, biting her lip hard to keep from saying anything that might be weird or strange.

The man stared at her for a moment, she could feel his eyes on her. Her own eyes were still focused on his scars instead. While she looked at them, she saw his cheeks move up ever so slightly and realised his tongue was probably licking the gashed scars inside of his mouth.

"I think white and...uh, red. _Long-lasting,_ doll." As he spoke she got a good whiff of his mouth and it wasn't pleasant. A mixture scent of rotten teeth and rotten food entered her nostrils and she had to keep back from moving away.

Rosalie broke her glance with his scars and stared at the pots on the second row. The "long- lasting" ones. She grabbed both white and red lidded ones and glanced at the clock, almost crying out.

It was 9 at night. She should have left hours ago.

"Oh, I didn't realise it was that lat-"

"Excuse me, Miss, there's something for you out-_oh_."

A man at the door spoke as if he was disappointed. Both me and the man with scars glanced at him in the doorway. The scarred man's back was previously turned to the door and now he was directly infront of it, with his face turned towards the man.

The man was of average height, but built with muscles and one arm was covered in crappy tattoos. He wore some sort of cleaning uniform, though she could tell it was probably fake.

Her heart hammered inside of her chest. What was he doing here at 9 o'clock at night? What were his plans to do to her if the scarred man hadn't been there?

All of these thoughts seemed to click in for the scarred man as well, for he took a step forward. He truly towered over the tattooed man, casting a shadow over him. The tattooed man gasped in disgust as his eyes made contact with what was presumably the man's scars, Rosalie couldn't exactly see past the scarred man's back.

"Did my being here, ah, ruin your plans. 'Cause you sure are _ruining_ mine. I was first in line-_ah_." His voice was smothered in anger and madness as he snarled it, she couldn't believe how he sounded.

Should she call 911? For what though? For who? Pursing her lips she stared at the scarred man's back and breathed in. She moved to walk around him to speak to the man at the door, she was going to say that she'd call 911 but as she started to walk an arm shout out and curled around her stomach briefly causing her to stumble back lightly. It was the scarred mans arm. It stayed there for a moment and she saw that he wore leather gloves instead of just letting his hands free.

Rosalie was aware that she was the loudest in the long silence. Her breathing was laboured and she swore everybody could hear her heart pound in her chest.

"Leave. _Now_. Tell your, ah, buddies that if they ever come back here, I'll be waiting." The scarred man said, she was so close to his back that she could almost hear it vibrate as he said it.

She glanced outside, to see how truly dark it was. How could she have been so stupid? As she peered out she noticed a van parked in the street with it's sliding door open, gulping, she realised that he probably just saved her life.

The tattooed man quickly retreated, muttering things under his breathe. Her body relaxed but the scarred man stayed at the door. As she heard it driving away she noticed him bring one gloved hand up to wave it goodbye.

Rosalie let out a breathe and almost collapsed to the ground. Noticing she still had the tins in her hand, without thinking, she grabbed his gloved hand and passed them into it. She felt the leather scratch her skin, the feeling alien to her.

She looked up to see him staring down at her, an almost confused look on his face. The scars almost made it look like he was smiling.

"Have them for free. Thankyou."

Abruptly he ran a hand through his hair and looked down at the tins. His dangerous eyes made contact with her own again and they both stared. They both stared for minutes at eachother, the party shop forgotten. Both were trying to piece together why their eyes were like that. The tall man tilted his head, allowing the shadows to cast a strange look on half of his face.

"I'm _Jac-k_. I'll be seeing ya, doll."

With that he left and his absence could be felt inside the shop. There were shivers down her spine.

She had never met anyone like that. Someone so... Mysterious and strange. Sure, Gotham had it's fair share of those but he was different. Jack. His name was Jack. It was such a normal name for someone like him. Jack. She closed her eyes and remembered his eyes, how dark they'd been.

Rosalie walked home, as she usually did, however it was later than usual. Once she was inside, she found Misery on the windowsill. His black fur blended in with the night outside.

"Hey, buddy. Sorry I'm late." She said, walking into the kitchen.

Rosalie noticed the food she'd bought herself still in the cupboard but she didn't get it out, instead she got the cat food box. As soon as the sound was made, Misery jumped from his spot, meowing and rubbing his tail around her legs. Rolling her eyes, she gave him the food in his bowl and scratched his head.

Yawning, she decided to have a shower and go to sleep. Once she was under the covers however, all she did was twist and turn, her eyelids becoming heavier and heavier. The image of Jack still in her mind caused her to stay awake. His eyes and his scars... She had a need to know the reason why they were like that. Why he was like that. She doubted she'd ever see him again.

Early in the morning, when it was still dark, she swore she heard a sound come from the corner of her room. Her heart was racing, after all, she was in Gotham. Death's like this happened all of the time. As she flicked her lamp on, she saw nothing there though. Just the two mirrored doors to her closet and her reflection. Sighing, she fell back asleep almost instantly after she turned the lamp off. Sleep had embraced her once more.

Sleep had covered her vision so much that she didn't even notice the dark eye peering out from the crack where the two mirrored doors met. She didn't even notice his tongue dart out to lick his scars.


	2. Chapter 2

**Thankyou so much to the follows, faves and reviews! I am really glad people like this story. I hope you liked this chapter. I'm trying to pace it as slow as possible, as I have many ideas in mind as to how this may end and I would like to span it out as if they did know eachother for an entire year.**

**Obviously, this guy is Jack and he is becoming the Joker, slowly but surely. He is already having ideas about what chaos he may ensure, but Rosalie has sort of changed those.**

**To the guest review who asked whether this was focusing mainly on Jack or time skipping to the Joker. The answer is Jack. I'm trying to interpret as much of the Joker as possible while still keeping someone who is keeping there madness at bay for now in his personality. I think i may do a sequel where it focuses on him as the Joker with the same OC, but who knows? Haha.**

**Please read and review!**

* * *

><p>Rosalie awoke on the Sunday morning with a groan. The light was streaming in through her window blinds and onto her skin in hot streaks. Her entire body was shining with sweat. Kicking the blankets away she sat up and glanced at her clock. Eight am.<p>

As a part of the release from hospital, she had to agree to go to a therapist. She hated him. He made her feel uncomfortable and unable to talk to a normal therapist. His name was Doctor Brook, but she preferred to call him by his first name, Dave, she knew that annoyed him. Her appointment was at 10 and she really could not be more annoyed at that fact, she almost wished she had the part shop open on Sundays so that she could actually miss it.

Glancing at her wardrobe, she noticed that one of the mirrored doors was left halfway open. Frowning, she stared at them. She was sure they had both been closed last night.

Her heart beat frantically as she remembered how she'd thought she'd heard something in the corner of her room. There was no way...

Inching closed towards the door, she curled her fingers around it and slammed it sidewards with a clash! Suddenly, something jumped beside her leg and she shrieked in surprise.

Looking down with wide eyes and her blood frozen, she noticed it was only Misery. He stared up at her with slotted green eyes and meowed.

She put a hand to her chest and breathed in slowly. The adrenaline was finally leaving her body and now she turned to her wardrobe.

"Silly Misery."

Rosalie had noticed in the mirror how her hair was on one of those days that just brushing it could not fix, so she decided today she'd get dressed up. Even though the therapist might try and ruin her day, she was going to do something productive anyway.

Grabbing her leather skater skirt, black stockings, butterfly and bones printed shirt and black cardigan, she walked into her bathroom. She also grabbed a choker to cover her neck.

Her mirror was so large in there she couldn't escape her own reflection. Ignoring her messy hair she decided to simply undress instead of stare annoyingly at the reflection of herself, unfortunately the light glinted across her visible collar bones and ribs and she turned to look at herself.

Gasping in surprise, she stared at her body. Her hip bones, rips and collarbones were protruding from her skin as if they were forcing themselves out. She almost looked skeleton like. When she pressed her hands against them it hurt. Her veins were showing up more prominently too and blue and green lines riddled certain parts of her body. Her once enviable curves now only made her look childlike.

It was such a shock that she had to bite her lip from keeping away the tears once more. Her eyes ran over her scars on her arms and the huge one on her neck. She cringed every time she saw it. She couldn't help but compare it to Jack's. His was messily done, where as hers was a straight line. Sighing, she looked away. How had this become her life?

After her shower, she put her clothes on, tucking in the singlet underneath her skirt that reached up to her waist.

Despite knowing there was no reason to do this and it would be washed off in mere hours anyway, she decided to apply some makeup. Rosalie applied a foundation, then covered it with powder and applied blush to her cheeks. She filled in her brows and coated her lashes in mascara, making sure they looked extra long. Finally, she coated her lips in a purple lipstick and was all set.

Brushing her clothes, she watched as the small pieces of powder fell onto her floor in a sandy colour. By then her hair was dry and still resembled some sort of nest. She tugged a comb through it not caring about split ends too much. Grabbing her straightener, she ran it through her hair till about midway and let her natural curls stay at the bottom of her hair. She place a round woman's top hat on her head to help her outfit and looked at herself in the mirror.

No amount of makeup could make her feel good about herself. Everything was a little wrong with her face. Each time she looked in the mirror she could see that. Her eyes were too far apart or her skin didn't look right. Sighing, she supposed it didn't matter.

As Rosalie sat on her couch with the cat curled up beside her, making deep vibrations go onto her skin from his purring she fiddled with her phone. News? Yes.

A group of men have been targeting young women at night.

Rosalie's heart stopped for a moment as she clicked on the headline.

A group of men have been targeting young women at night. They lure their victims out by sending one of the men to the door and asking the women to look out at something. It is then that they kidnap and drug them before taking them to their van that usually waits around the corners. The crimes in which they commit to these women include rape, assault and murder. Police believe these men to be in their late twenties to early thirties, most likely built well, have tattoos and lurk about at night. If you have seen anyone that matches this description than please contact the police.

Her heart was racing. Had one of them really been that man at the shop? Jack had actually saved her life. Should she call the police? No... Because Jack had been there, and she had no way of knowing where he came from or who he was.

Glancing at the clock she groaned. It was only half an hour until her appointment.

"See you later, buddy." She called as she grabbed her handbag.

Her apartment wasn't in a good area but it wasn't necessarily in a bad one either. It was average. The street below it was always busy enough that she didn't have any trouble catching a cab.

As Rose entered one she felt the heavy silence sink in after she told the driver where she needed to go. It was a good fifteen minute ride, so she decided to listen to music to pass the time.

One of her favourite songs played and she decided to leave it on repeat.

_Don't it make you smile?_

_Don't it make you smile?_

_When the sun don't shine?_

_(Shine at all)_

_Don't it make you smile?_

After a while the cab pulled up and she exited it after paying. Here, it was the building she hated with a passion. The building was big enough, painted a modern grey outside with windows the size of her entire apartment. Dave was on the second last story.

The horrible elevator music, a melody of torture, almost made her bang her head against the wall. Not to mention the suited shrink inside of it with her. He seemed like a middle-aged pretentious asshole, to her anyway.

Rose was almost grateful when she stepped out of it onto the floor. As she walked towards Becky, his receptionist, she have her a red lipped, perfect toothed fake smile.

"Hi there, how can I help you?"

_Oh, I don't know, Becky, how could you possibly help me? Maybe slam my was against the edge of your desk, _Rose thought bitterly.

Hearing laughter coming down the hall, she noticed a group of suits laughing with eachother. They were obviously other shrinks and with them was Dave. He met her eyes with a golden glance and the others didn't fail to notice.

They all stared at her for a small moment, each one silent, and her heart pounded as they stared at her. They returned to their chatter soon after. She was well aware she was younger than most people that went to therapists. Being 23 and getting a referral from a hospital to go see Dave was not good, at all.

"Um, I have an appointment with Dav-ugh, Doctor Brook." Rosalie muttered, the woman raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow at her slip up and she coughed.

Suddenly, all of the men departured from the hall and waited outside the elevators behind her.

"Of course. He's waiting for you, just in there."

Rosalie left Becky, who was typing away at the keyboard already as she nodded a thankyou towards her.

As she turned the door handle she had half the mind to turn back around.

As she took a seat to the lounge opposite him, she tried to relax. Her entire body, as usual, was tensed up. She felt so uncomfortable in these visits.

Staring up, she looked at him. His skin was always tan in colour. She hated the way his eyes crinkled a little when he spoke. His eyes were a strange golden colour, almost as if they had came from the Wizards of Oz or something. His lips were thin and pink. She had to keep the grin off of her face when she noticed his slowly receding hairline and how a grey frost was beginning to cover up his brown hair.

"So, Rosalie, what would you rate last week as on a scale of one to ten?"

Every time. Every damn time she was asked this question. She didn't see why it mattered. Clearing her throat she shrugged a little, ignoring the way it was so silent in the room.

"About a 6."

"I noticed you've changed your...appearance. Any particular reason for that?"

Oh, no, other than you, Dave. She said in her mind in the voice or Becky, having to stop herself from rolling her eyes. She couldn't stand his pretty boy voice.

"No. I felt like it."

"Right, right. Are you sleeping well?"

The question was a little bit of a shock. Her hesitation was obviously already giving away the fact she was lying when she spoke.

"Yes. Very well."

Rosalie watched his hands move with the pen and paper as he wrote things down. She always hated not knowing what he was saying.

"Good. Is there anybody new in your life?"

The question took her off guard and she raised an eyebrow as he leaned it to study her more closely. She gripped the edge of the lounge and swallowed.

"Any sexual partners?"

She bit her tongue as she shook her head, allowing the curled ends of her hair to bounce around.

Dave tilted his head a little, as if he were mocking her.

"Well isn't that my luck?"

The words felt as if someone had poured a bucket of ice cold water down her entire body. Shivers were sent from her head to her toes. A look of lust covered his golden eyes and she tried to shrink as far back into the chair as possible.

"Hmm, why don't we talk about...before the hospital?"

"No."

"Rosalie, you know we need to discuss this. You will not even speak about your past. Why don't you try today?"

"_No_!"

"Don't tell me I'll have to persuade you, you should know better than this."

As he came towards her she shot up from her seat and without a seconds hesitation ran out of the room towards the elevators. She pressed the button ten times and waited for one to show.

"Miss, please stay here!" Becky shouted but by then the doors had opened and she had already entered one.

Rosalie could hear the sound of Dave running after her just as the doors closed. With the doors, she closed off as well. She put a hand over her mouth and let out a small cry. Tears overflowed in her eyes and fell over her cheeks and hands in streams.

She tried to calm herself, breathing in and out quietly. It was something she had become an expert in, handling her panic. Her heart pounded as she realised there would probably be people waiting for her elevator and that they would see her crying. Would they call security and have her escorted back?

Pressing her lips together she forced her tears to stop. The welling of emotion in her chest nearly exploded from the force. As the doors opened with a ding, she ducked her head, allowing her hat to cover her face partially.

Rosalie welcomed the wind outside, not caring that her hair was spilling around her face as if it were a curtain. It could conceal her as she tried to focus on something else. Anything else. Coffee. Maybe that would calm her down.

As she walked on the sidewalk, she was almost grateful for the multitudes of business men and women. They were so... Caught up in their own world, they didn't realise what was going on around them. Rosalie felt she was the opposite. She saw everything, everyone and how they faked things. Hardly anybody noticed her though, and usually she was completely fine with that.

As the thought of coffee pressed into her mind she found herself on the outside of a small diner. It was nothing special. Painted yellow outside with classic red booths inside and large windows overlooking the busy street.

As she opened the door towards it a windchime sounded a high pitched melody and the smell of cooking pancakes filled her nostrils. It had been so long that she had forgotten the smell of them and it made her mouth water.

Eyeing a booth off to the back left side, away from most people, she headed there and scooted into the middle of the booth. A huge relief flooded through her as her feet left the ground and the seat comforted her. Leaving her handbag beside her, she glanced down at a menu that had been oddly left on the table amongst the salt, pepper and sugar containers.

Picking it up, she noticed her reflection on the laminate it was laminated in. Luckily, her mascara hadn't run terribly, but her eyes were glassy and red and her cheeks were flushed. Anyone could tell she had been crying if they looked closely enough.

She didn't have time to panic anymore about that for a woman's voice interrupted her.

"Hello, ma'am! Do you know what you'd like to order? Take your time!"

A perky young brunette waitress, maybe only a few years older than herself showed up. She was dressed in one of those classic looking waitress dresses, with a blouse and skirt.

"Ah, yes. Can I please have a coffee, milk, 2 sugars."

As Rose looked up, forgetting about her current appearance, the waitress widened her eyes in shock before forcing her face to turn back to normal.

"Of course. That'll be right up."

The woman walked away with a swishing ponytail. Oh, how Rose envied her. She couldn't imagine herself ever like that, although she remembered when she pretended to be like that. To be happy. She didn't think anyone had noticed anything was wrong.

Rose found her mind travelling towards the therapist. She didn't feel comfortable talking to Dave, ever. Unfortunately, the hospital would take her back if she refused to go and nobody was going to believe her. Nobody had ever believed her...even when she was younger.

She flinched back suddenly as a person sat opposite her in her booth. Her heart hammered as she looked up, desperately hoping it wasn't someone from the building or some perv.

For some reason, she felt a wave of relief as she saw a slightly familiar topple of dirty blonde locks. It was Jack. He was keeping his head down, however. That was until she cleared her throat.

Slowly, his head moved upwards and his inhuman gaze met her own. The circles underneath his eyes were even darker than the night's before. Her eyes flickered down to his scars once more, curiosity getting the better of her. She would rather do that than look in his eyes anyway, his scars could have only possibly come from somebody else or himself. His eyes...well, anything could have happened to make his eyes so tortured and empty.

"Relax, this was my table _first_."

His voice was incredibly quiet and for a moment she didn't know if he actually said anything. His eyes said differently though and she swallowed, replaying what he said.

She realised he probably just came back from the restroom and that was why the menu had already been there.

Suddenly, the perky waitress came back carrying a tray. On it, was a plateful of something and a mug with steam rising from it.

Carefully, she placed Rose's cup down on the table infront of her and Rose couldn't help but sigh happily as the scent of caffeine hit her. The waitress then placed the plate infront of Jack, who had ducked his head away to the other side again.

Rose felt a pang of guilt and anger towards whoever had done it to him. She decided to not bullshit herself and tell herself that people wouldn't care if they saw his scars, because a large population would. They had judged hers firmly throughout her life, and scars on somebodies face would make them even more judgemental. There were people like her though, people that wouldn't look away in disgust.

Suddenly, with a pace of a lion hunting it's pray, Jack got his fork and began hungrily shoving in piles of food. She glimpsed down at what he had ordered. Her eyes widened at the sight. Scrambled eggs, bacon, bread and pancakes smothered in syrup were piled onto the plate. Surely, this had to be a customised order. She couldn't help but stare as he kept shoving food into his mouth as if he thought it would go away, as if he hadn't eaten in days. Small noises came from his throat as he did so.

Suddenly, his eyes looked towards her and she ducked her head, realising she should have probably moved by then. She was after all, only a party shop owner he'd met once and he was a customer. Not a friend or acquaintance.

"Oh, um, sorry. I'll just-"

"_Uh-uh."_

That made her eyes flicker back to him. Was he telling her to stay? Their eyes held their gaze for a few heart stopping more moments before he began digging back into his meal. Deciding that perhaps he wanted to discuss something about a product in the shop, she decided to stay seated.

Taking a sip of her coffee, she welcomed the hot trickle down her throat, which warmed her cold chest. She hadn't had one this good in ages. Between sipping, she stole glanced at the strange man. She briefly wondered how old he was? Of course, the scars and his eyes made him seem a lot older than he probably was. She guessed he was a little older than her, maybe in his late twenties, but there was no way she was going to ask him.

Finally, he set his utensils down with a clang. It made her jump and she looked down at his plate, which had left one pancake and small bits of scrambled egg. Her eyes gazed back up to his gaze and she gulped.

"Why?"

The question caught her off guard. Why? Why what? Had she accidentally kicked him underneath the table?

"Why what?"

His face tilted to the side and he chewed on the inside of his mouth, presumably where the scars were. As he stared at her, she seemed to realise he was almost mocking her.

"Why do you pretend-_ah_?"

She tilted her head, ignoring the blonde strands that swept across her cheek.

"Pretend?

Jack's face turned into a scowl, his eyes looking all the more sinister.

"_Don't. Play. Dumb_. I have a good punchline for ya. The owner of a party shop is miserable! Hah. Who woulda' known." His voice seemed to be verged on the edge of insanity. It had changed to a higher pitch, something that didn't seem normal.

She had the urge to start crying all over again, but her curiosity ran deeper than her emotions at that moment, so she decided to keep her head up. How the hell did he know anything? How would he know if she was miserable or not?

Folding her arms across her chest she sat back and looked at the estranged man for a moment before glancing down at her now almost empty cup.

"I-. How would you know I'm miserable? I've only met you- "

"_Once_. Once-_ah_. Once is enough. I can see right through your ah, pretty green eyes. You feel a need for something...more. But. You still pretend you're normal."

His words sunk in and she almost wondered if she was dreaming. No one ever said anything like that. No one had ever said anything like that to her.

'You feel the need for something...more.'

That line was better than any shrink had ever given her. Although, when it came from an almost complete stranger , it was different.

Rosalie bit her lip and stared down at the remaining small amount of coffee in her mug. Absentmindedly, she toyed with the choker on her neck, briefly feeling her fingertips touch the edges of her scar.

Her eyes connected with his again and his face was completely out of hiding, she could even see the tiny amount of stubble on his chin and the freckles on his nose.

She watched as he brought a gloved hand up to his hair and ran through it vigorously.

"I, ah, need something else from your shop-_ah_."

Her heart hammered and she was glad for the change of the conversation topic. The reminder of her shop brought her a little ease. The next day she was there from 9 to 5, she'd have distractions.

"What is it?"

"All in due time, doll." Jack's voice was distracted and so was his face.

He was staring at her as if he wanted to unravel ever secret she held in there. He had said that he had seen through her eyes, and she didn't doubt that for one second. It was as if he was traveling back through all of her own memories. Suddenly, his tongue darted out to lick his scars and his eyes traveled down to her choker, or rather her finger that was touching her neck.

"_Don't. Lie. To. Me. _I can tell you have sec-rets. Eat it." Jack's voice ranged from outraged to vaguely demanding.

Why was he telling her what to do? He didn't know her at all.

She noticed he referenced the remaining pancake on his plate. Although it looked incredibly appetising, she didn't feel like eating it, at all.

"But, um, I don't like syrup." Rosalie said, her excuse incredibly lame. She felt her cheeks blushing at the stupid excuse. Her entire face radiated heat.

She watched curiously as he dragged the plate closer to him. He used one of his gloved hands to pick up the pancake and place it flat in his palm. The syrup ran down his gloves and suddenly, he licked the syrup off of the entire pancake, some of it smeared onto his scars. Jack allowed the pancake to drop onto the plate once more.

Suddenly, without warning, he leaned his entire body in towards her. Once more, his scars and eyes were illuminated by the lighting. The gloved hand with the syrup still oozing on it darted out and lightly patted her cheek twice and caressed it for a moment. The feeling of warm leather on her skin was foreign to her and she could decide if she liked or disliked it. All she knew was that she felt goosebumps on her flesh as he held it. When he let his hand slip back, she felt the syrup sticking to her cheek.

His face leaned in even closer, so much so that she could actually see his pupil from his eye colour. She felt and smelt his hot breath against her mouth. It smelt of rotten fish, rotten teeth, bacon and most of all, syrup. He opened up his mouth like a fish, and her eyes widened as she saw vague uneven bumps on the insides of his cheeks. So they did go all the way through. When he spoke, she watched his tongue move up and down.

"_Learn_ to."

With that, Jack stood, towering over the table for a moment, his dark eyes staring down at her. Money floated down onto the table and he stalked out, hunching his shoulders.

Rosalie let out a breathe, her throat so constricted. Why did she feel this way? Why did she feel like when she spoke to him, she was in danger and she admittedly didn't mind it? He was obviously something different then your everyday person. Her heart was still beating frantically from his proximity and words.

"Are you okay, sweetie?"

The perky waitress turned up, her head dipped curiously.

Rosalie brought a thumb to her sticky cheek, swiping her finger and receiving a droplet of golden liquid on it. Placing her finger on her tongue, she allowed the gooey sugar to test her taste buds.

A slow smile crept it's way up onto Rose's face. She looked up at the waitress underneath her hat.

"Never been better." The waitress smiled a strange smile at her and took the money from the table which more than covered for both of their food and drink.

Maybe she did like syrup after all.


	3. Chapter 3

**Thankyou to everybody that took the time to read this and r/f/f'd it. Sorry for the long wait, I had limited internet access and had a lot of school work to catch up on. The next chapter is underway :)! A part of Rosalie's past and how everything ties in may happen in the next chapter, depending on how Jack will react to certain things said. Needless to say, he's obviously done something that's going to make her re-evaluate how different he is from everybody, but I just hope everybody keeps in mind that Rose is also a person with a twisted mind but it just hasn't been shown very much.**

**Please review and follow!**

* * *

><p>"Gotham police are still at work trying to find these group of men targeting young women. These crimes are unacceptable and inhumane. We urge all young women to stay with somebody at all times during the late afternoon to late at night. We also urge shopkeepers and women with late jobs to be careful, and if possible, leave early."<p>

Like hell. Rosalie switched the TV off. She had had a beautiful bath and was now dressed in her favourite pyjamas. A silky green singlet, bought from some lingerie shop, and a pair of less luxurious panama pants with lions on them. Misery was curled up by her side, purring himself into a slumber.

Rose tried to ignore the fact that she was really craving golden syrup. Placing a hand on the cheek that Jack had touched, she ran a finger down it. Shaking her head, she wondered what she was doing and glanced down at her coffee table. Some gossip magazine was there and she decided to read it.

Flipping it open, causing Misery to stir she looked at one of the headlines.

_Bruce Wayne, Billionaire_

_Bruce Wayne, buys a new car_

_Bruce Wayne_

_Bruce Wayne_

_Bruce Wayne_

She decided she already hated the magazine.

Laying her head down against the pillow that she's propped up behind herself, she decided to sleep on the couch.

Eventually, she allowed the darkness to invite her forward.

During the night, she had woken up to a loud clinging sound and a strange whining noise. As drowsy as she was, she remembered where she was. She was in Gotham, and sometimes noises could mean life or death so she decided to think about the possibilities of what it could have been, without falling asleep.

It couldn't have been the door. Misery was still by her side. It sounded as if if came from the bedroom...

_Mousetrap_.

She must have caught one for once. She hadn't known there were any mice inside. Misery should have caught it, although he was lazy. The thought brought her ease though and she slowly drifted back to sleep, forgetting the sound.

Her dream was strange.

Rosalie stumbled through what seemed to be a large freezer, like the ones at ice cream factories. Every single shelf held no products. Everything from the floor to the roof was covered in frost.

Her bare flesh was bit into by the cold. She could feel each of her blood cells freezing. She watched her breath in front of her in white swirls.

Suddenly, a sound broke the silence of the freezer. As she looked forward there was a grey door, with a wide window inside of it.

A dark figure came up to it, and the sound of a commotion outside of it happened. There was shouting and screaming, and suddenly a line of blood was spurted onto the window. Slowly, it dripped down, and formed the word '_smile_'.

The crimson word sent chills down her spine and she watched as the ends of each letter seeped into small droplets.

Suddenly, the lights all went out and Rosalie awoke with sweat lacing her body.

Gasping, as she put a hand to her chest and coughed as she sat up. Her heart still hammered and adrenaline rushed through her blood as if she were still in the dream.

Misery was meowing on the floor beside her, obviously he had been rudely awoke by her nightmare as she had been.

Glancing at her phone it was only five minutes until her alarm went off. Groaning, she rubbed her eyes and saw the sunlight seeping in through her window's blinds. Spots of it shone onto her skin in warm pockets and it was a great contrast to her dream, where her blood had felt frozen.

As she deleted the alarm she'd set for herself, she remembered the mouse trap she'd heard in her closet.

Getting up she walked into her room, wishing she's slept on the bed for we couch had put pressure on her neck. As she went to open the closet, she glanced at her reflection, her nightmare had obviously ruined her 'beauty sleep'.

As she opened it, she glanced down. The trap had been set off, but there was no mouse inside. There was blood though, enough blood to cover the wooden base of it. Oddly enough, she could smell it's rusty scent, as if it were human.

Tucking her hair behind her ears she tried to peer into the rest of the closet to see if the mouse had died somewhere else, but there was no sign of it. Not even a blood trail. Frowning, she took the mouse trap in her fingers anyway and put it in the rubbish bin. Maybe Misery had eaten it.

She chose a cream dress, with woven black flowers on the bust. Hating herself for it, she put on her black cardigan, despite the sun already biting her skin through the window. As she put it on she glanced at her scars, closing her eyes.

Rosalie applied a little bit of makeup and then decided to put a choker on. The scar still looked half fleshy, and stood out from her pale skin. The black and purple ruffles hid all of it, although it scratched her neck.

As she walked to work, she found herself thinking about Jack instead of listening to her music. What did he want from the shop? Would he turn up today? Would it be as strange as the day before? Absentmindedly, she ran a hand down her cheek where he'd cupped it. Sighing, she shook her head. What was wrong with her!?

As she opened up her shop, she pursed her lips. The walls could seriously do with painting. She just couldn't find the time to do it, or the height. As she glanced around in the shop, she almost wished she had returned back to making her own costumes. The ones in the shop were only half as good as her own. Making them used to be an easy and fun distraction, and all of the parents had loved her when she had made the costumes exactly the right side. She had been good at it too.

Deciding to stop dwelling on her costume making for the time being, she checked the stock in the back, making sure it was all out already. The rest of it should have been delivered in the day.

Considering the fact she barely had customers anymore, she decided to listen to music through her headphones, if anyone came in she'd just get did of the music straight away. As she turned her headphones up to the maximum she smiled happily, music always helped her escape.

Smile by Pearl Jam began to play once more. She decided to just leave it on repeat. The guitar and voice soothed her, although the entire song was sinister.

As it played a third time, she decided to sing along with it. Staring at her desk she tapped her fingers to the guitar. Her hips swayed with the music and her head nodded slightly.

"_Don't it make you smile?_

_Don't it make you smile?_

_When the sun don't shine (don't shine a all?_

_Don't it make you smile?_

_Don't it make you smile?_

_Don't it make me smile?_

_When the sun don't shine (it don't shine at all)_

_Don't it make me smile_

_I miss you already_

_It's you always.._

_I miss you alrea-"_

Suddenly, Rosalie's earphones were ripped out from her ears. Jumping and turning to the side, her eyes collided with somebodies shirt. Jack's to be exact. She wished she could avoid his eyes, but she really couldn't. They stared down at her and his scars made him look as if he were smiling, or perhaps he was. She couldn't tell.

He held both earphones in one gloved hand, the music blared from both of them.

He licked his lips and chuckled

"Excellent, ah, singing. Bu-_ut,_ is the song really, ah, _appropriate_?" His voice seemed to be laboured, the way older men's do when their backs are in pain.

Raising an eyebrow, she wondered why his voice was like that. She did feel bad though. The song wasn't exactly what she would have picked if she knew he had been there. She hadn't even seen or heard the door open. Didn't even see his shadow walk up to the front desk.

As she stared up at him, unable to speak, he stared down at her. She noticed his eyes beginning to get mad so she immediately switched her gaze to his shirt.

Rosalie's eyes widened as she saw in the middle of his shirt, a darkened patch. Darker than his already black shirt. Without thinking, she pressed her hand to it, feeling a warm stickiness. Glancing at her fingers, she saw the substance was red.

Stumbling back she gaped up at him. He seemed to have an almost sheepish look about him. His lips were turned up in the slightest smirk, miraculously, despite the pain of whatever wound was hidden by his shirt.

"W-what happened?"

There was a long silence and she knew, she just knew, he was staring at her. She half wished she or he had been blind, just so he couldn't stare at her any longer.

She was aware at how he was leaning a little to the side, as if the wound was forcing him to. His arm went to scratch the back of his head but he winced and bent over in pain.

"I, ah, guess I annoyed some-bod-y." He coughed as he said it, and she felt a pang of worry.

What had happened to him? Had somebody cut him in the street? How far had he walked before reaching the shop?

Putting her hands in her hair frustratedly she glanced around. Finding her phone she held it out to type in 911. She didn't know how bad it was, but she knew it was too painful to watch.

Suddenly a gloved hand reached out and closed around the phone and her hand holding it. His grip was to tight that she let out a small whimper, forgetting to worry about looking into his eyes. They were staring down at her and anger laced around them.

_"No, hospital_."

Jack snarled, a low grumbling sound coming from the back of his throat after he said it. He almost sounded like a wolf growling.

She averted her eyes down to the glove, looking at the creases of the brown leather. His hand shook slightly, as if he were struggling to keep his grip. Why didn't he want to go the hospital? Was it _drug_ related?! Her heart hammered in her chest. Although he was strange, she hadn't thought he would be into that, at least not using the anyway. She hadn't smelt anything on him that made her think so.

Rosalie knew that she couldn't trust him. She couldn't trust anybody, ever. She almost felt a responsibility to help him, though. Staring at the glove for a moment she pursed her lips, if he wouldn't go to the hospital, she'd help him. He had saved her life the other night.

Rosalie nodded her head a little in understanding, allowing her hair to fall in her face and over her cheek that was facing him. The gloved hand fell away once she did that, however it came up to her cheek and brushed the hair out of the way.

"I-I have a first aid kit in the back. I'll go get it." Rosalie stuttered, moving immediately to go around to where she kept all of the stock in the storage shelves.

Once she was around the corner, blocked by the small wall and storage shelves, she pressed her hands around one of them and inhaled and exhaled slowly.

_Why had he not wanted to go to the hospital? Why had he made his way to her shop and not somebodies home? Why was she actually going to help him, a stranger?_

Rosalie lifted her eyes up to the shelf that held the first aid kit, seeing it's outline. She came to the realisation of why.

She was attracted to his strange nature. His difference to everybody else. She was curious about his scars but most of all, she was curious, intrigued and frightened by his eyes.

With that knowledge of herself in her head, she reached up and grabbed the kit. Walking back out she saw he was still at the counter, clutching his middle and muttering to himself.

Turning to the door, she hesitated. Should she close the shop up? What if he tries something and nobody will come in the shop for days? Shaking her head, she decided if he was going to do something he would have done it already.

Flipping the small red card that had 'open' and 'closed' on either side, Rosalie lowered and closed the binds on the door as well. She didn't want anyone coming in. What if it had been a drug thing? If a policeman walked in she'd be counted in as help towards the crime.

Glancing at one of her purple stools, she grabbed it and dragged it over in front of the front desk where he was currently standing behind.

"J-Jack, can you sit on that?"

Glancing up at him she saw he was staring at her again, his head tilted like a confused puppy and his greasy hair tumbling to one side.

"What's the mag-_ic_ word-ah?"

Rosalie almost dropped the first aid kit in exasperation. Was he really trying to make a joke when he was obviously seriously injured? However, she knew he was strange, and perhaps he was only going to let her help him if she played by his rules.

"Please?"

Jack placed a hand over his injured spot and grinned, a strange noise coming from the back of his throat.

He took his time getting to her and by then she had opened her the kit on the desk. She heard him sit down, heard the cushion press down as he sat on it.

An incredibly wave of heat flooded through her as she turned around. Her cheeks felt as if they were on fire. Jack's dark eyes had been staring off at no where in particular and as soon as she turned around, they flickered slowly up to meet her own green eyes.

Clearing her throat, she decided it would be a lot easier to help him if the kit was by her side so she moved it on the floor and she kneeled on her knees infront of him. The stool was almost comically small, so her face was to his middle. She found it almost humouring that he was such a tall man having to sit in the stool, but he didn't seem to get the joke, so she decided not to laugh.

"Can you take your jacket and your shirt off?"

Rosalie had asked it hesitantly and she had hoped he would just obey her request but of course, a long silence set in. He stared at her pointedly and she sighed, shaking her head.

"Please?"

Rosalie tried not too blush too much as she watched him. His face contorted in pain briefly as he took off his jacket, tossing it to the floor. She ran her eyes along his arms, admiring the muscles she hadn't really expected. He kept his gloves on despite his bare arms. She watched as he put his gloved hand underneath the hem of his shirt and pulled it up and over his head.

Rosalie bit her lip and tried not to stare to much at his surprisingly muscular form. It came to her much easier though, when she saw the large amount of smeared crimson blood on his middle. Some of it was caught on the fine hairs leading down to his jeans.

Her heart stuttered and she grabbed a cloth from the first aid kit and began to swipe it across his pale body, ignoring the smoothness of it when her thumb brushed over his skin.

Rosalie wiped over it once and then turned the cloth over to the cleaner side, wiping once more. Glancing down, she furrowed her brows as she smelt a familiar smell. It was the plastic scent of fake blood that she often used in the store.

Breathing in a shaky breath she felt her heart stop. She had wiped more than 85% of it away and she saw no gash, no wound, no injury, no cut. It was all fake blood. He had faked it. And now she was in a position where he could easily do whatever he liked to her, because she'd been stupid enough to believe it.

Feeling herself try to swallow something in the back of her throat, ignoring the loud pounding of her heart and the lack oxygen to her brain her eyes slowly flickered up to Jack's face.

Rosalie's breath caught in her throat as she stared at him, his black eyes turning. Suddenly, a gloved hand came over her mouth with a piece of cloth that smelt something like bleach. Despite herself she couldn't struggle, instead, she almost let the dark spots embrace her and her vision.

"Sorry, doll, but I just gotta _know-ah._"

Rosalie's vision was blurred as she awoke once more, she could feel a chair underneath her, however. Her vision was already dark and as it cleared, it seemed even darker. In panic, she tried to lift her arms and stand up from the chair but something forced her still. Looking down Rose saw that her wrists were bound to the chair's arm rests in torn black material, her legs seemed to be tied to the chair's legs in the same fashion.

_Oh God, oh God, oh God._

Peering out infront of her, she noticed something. A black glass kitchen table. Her black glass kitchen table. She was at home. As her eyes strained to look out past the end of it, she could make out a silhouette of somebody. She saw, infused in his silhouette a cat's tail flicking back and forth lazily. Rose could hear Misery's soft purring. Narrowing her eyes, traitor, she thought.

"Welcome home, hon-_ey_."


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello everyone! I'm so sorry that this is so late. I have had all my years tests in a matter of days and had to relentlessly study! I couldn't find the time to write. I haven't given up on this story, just had to have a small break. Thank you so much to the feedback! So, this chapters short but the next one will be fairly long.**

**Please r&r!**

The adrenaline in Rosalie's body surged through her like lightening. She was less scared than she was confused. Why had he kidnapped her only to bring her home?

She watched his silhouette and saw his arm moving, knowing he was petting Misery made her feel strange. Suddenly, he leaned forward, a sound like a lighted match happened and suddenly a candle was lit in the middle of the long table.

For a moment Rosalie watched the flame flicker and reflect on the edges of the glass case. Her eyes slowly made her way up to Jack, who was now easier to see. The flame danced in his eyes and made him look as mad as he usually did.

"So, ah, you're probably wondering ..."

"Let go of Misery."

Jack tilted his head, a confused look on his face. His tongue darted out for a moment and then quickly went back inside his mouth. His eyes danced towards the cat in his arms. Rosalie could see Misery's green eyes and his swaying tail.

"Misery?"

Rosalie felt a small rush of something strange go through her body. She had no clue what it was.

"From the Stephen King novel..."

"I know. He just so happens to be, ah, one of my favourites."

Rosalie had to resist the urge to begin a conversation about how much she loved his books. She was, after all, tied up in her own chair.

She watched the flame dance in his eyes as he allowed Misery to jump on the floor, his eyes never leaving hers.

Jack clasped his gloved hands together, making the sound of crinkling of leather. A strange sense of calamity had invaded Rosalie's body and she had no clue why. Perhaps because she found this more interesting than any day she'd ever experienced.

She found herself self-consciously reaching towards the choker she had put on, only to touch the unfamiliar part of healed and bumpy skin on her neck. Her heart seemed to stop as her eyes connected with his. No. Nobody was supposed to see her scars. Nobody.

"NO. Give it back, now."

"Ah, ah. Ro-sa-lie. Don't panic. It's riiiight here. It's, it's going to save me a lot of time."

Her eyes narrowed at him. Her hair had fallen across half of her face and she could feel one end of a strand tickling against her skin. Her hands itched to move it away.

"To do what?"

"Figure out why you're just like me. You don't see the world the same way they do. They're, ah, blind. I want to show them."

Rosalie dug her nails into the chair. She hadn't had a conversation like this, ever. She knew what he meant and it frightened her. She knew exactly what this twisted man meant and she understood and agreed. She saw it differently and everybody was blind. She always thought about that.

Rosalie watched the flame flicker in his eyes, the rest of his eyes as dark as night.

"The only way to let them see would be to show them-"

"Corruption. Chaos. Madness-ah."

She could practically hear whatever he was planning in his head unravelling with the way he spoke those words. They sent shivers down her spine.

She wished she could know his past just by looking at him. Obviously, it wasn't pretty. Either was here, really. She supposed something traumatic had to happen so that they could see the way the world really was.

A silence set in and she found herself looking down at the table. She could see his reflection in the black glass. His eyes were focused straight ahead, towards her face. His scars merged into the glass with each nick and bump. As her eyes looked at his own in the reflection, they blended into the table. The only thing that she could see was the white's of his eyes and the flame that the blackness surrounded.

A thought occurred to her. For some reason, the very notion of it didn't worry her. It didn't disgust her. She was curious. Incredibly curious.

She lifted her head and looked into his eyes which were already level with hers.

"Have you killed anybody?"

The silence that settled in was inhuman. That very silence answered her question, but she still felt as if she wanted to know more. He didn't blink or move or seem to breathe. It was suddenly interrupted by the sound of three loud knocks on her door.

She jumped and looked over to it. She was fully aware that Jack was still staring at her.

He stood up, allowing the chair scrape along the floor. She watched closely as he walked down past the table and turned on his heel behind her. His gloved hand curled around the back of her chair and pulled her chair back with ease. He pulled it back far enough so that whoever was at the door couldn't see her and she couldn't see them.

Jack put his face beside hers and she turned towards it. His eyes were staring right into hers. His index finger reached up to his lips to say 'shhh'.

Rosalie watched as his tell frame walked towards the kitchen. He ran the tap and splashed water on the front of his shirt near his neck. Suddenly, he then took off his shoes, pants and jacket leaving him in boxers and a t-shirt. Raising an eyebrow, she wondered what he was doing. She felt leather brush against her neck and realised he'd left his gloves behind her.

Jack cleared his throat and walked towards the way of the door. Her vision was blocked by the wall but she could still hear fine.

Rose heard him unlock the door and then there was silence.

"Ah, ugh, um, where's Rosalie?"

Rosalie vaguely recognised the man's voice. It was Rory from across the hall. She'd spoken to him a few times, when she was ducking out to work or coming home. He was shorter than Jack and had auburn hair, a splatter of freckles on his face and green eyes. She pictured him seeing Jack's scars for the first time.

"She's, ah, in bed, what have you got there-ah? I know she wouldn't want me to be out here too long, waiting and all.."

Rosalie gaped, a faint blush heating her cheeks.

"Oh, um, right. Ugh, I know she likes reading and my, ah, sister kept these books and I thought she might want to read them."

"...well, I'll be sure to, ah, give them to her. What's your name? I'm Jack."

"R-Rory."

"Ah, Rory. You live over there?"

A silence settled in and she knew Jack was creeping Rory out.

"Yeah. Look, I have to go."

The door was slammed shut and she heard Jack lock the door. He then made his way over to the table and slammed a pile of what looked to be cheesy romance novels onto it. He raised an eyebrow and pointed an unfamiliar thumb out to the direction of the door.

"He your, ah, boyfriend?"

Rosalie almost laughed at the thought of it. The thought of even having one at this stage in her life made her want to laugh. So she did. A small giggle passed her lips and it evolved into a long laugh.

The sound of it echoed throughout the apartment and it's rooms. Eventually it lowered down and she was able to stop.

She looked at Jack with a small smile, he also had one in return, but not for the same reason.

"No."

"Tell me how you, ah, got your scars?"

Jack was walking over to her now. His demeanour had changed completely, his tall frame seemed to illuminate the entire place.

"No." Rosalie shook her head, completely blocking the memories that came to it at his question.

Suddenly, his hands slammed on her chair and he knelt beside her, resting his elbow on a space beside her own arm and holding his chin up with his arm.

She could feel his hot breath tickle against her cheek and the smell of it almost sent her reeling. That combination of rotting and dead things did not smell well.

His body seemed to be slightly shaking with anger as he let his elbow slip and held onto the chair with two hands over her arm.

"Look. At. Me."

Rosalie felt something turn on in her mind, like a light switch. If they were one and the same, then he would understand her reply. He would get this.

She felt him swerve the chair around so she was facing him. Their eyes inches away from each other. She briefly felt his calloused fingers and palm keep her face in place, each side of it held by a hand. Once again, every detail of his eyes were in focus for her and she was drinking all of the dark madness in.

"I won't tell you. I won't tell you because it's better to keep people guessing. It makes them frightened and intrigued by you."

Jack's eyes flickered to focus on both of hers. It was as if he was trying to decide whether she answered it eyes glanced down at his scars and then back up to his eyes.

His finger tapped her nose and it was then, when she remembered he wasn't wearing any gloves that she remembered he wasn't wearing any pants either. Unconsciously, she looked down and smirked slightly.

He didn't seem to care though. When she looked back up, she swore his face had moved forward an inch towards her. Rosalie couldn't help but stare at the splatter of freckles on the bridge of his nose.

His breath was now going into her mouth, making it warmer. Strangely enough, he didn't seem to have his mouth open enough to be breathing out of it. Her eyes were level with his nose and so the scars seemed to be a giant stretched out blur underneath his nose.

"You are intrigue-ing. But no-t because of that."

Rosalie couldn't blink. She couldn't move. She couldn't breathe. She shouldn't listen to him. She couldn't listen to him, but she did.

Suddenly, she laughed. She couldn't help it. It came erupting from her chest and her throat. It sounded like shrill bells erupting out of nowhere.

She didn't know why she was laughing. The notion escaped her. Nothing was really hilarious or funny. Infact, it was wrong.

Jack stared at her blankly, the brown rings around his eyes turning like wheels. Rosalie glanced down at his lips, they were tugged up more than often, into a true smile.

A loud meow from Misery interrupted both of them and Rosalie glanced at Jack's feet. She watched the black tail brush against his leg, watching goosebumps form on his skin. It was something unnatural on him. He always seemed to be the one that worked to scare people, and now something like goosebumps showed up on his skin.

"I'll be there to-mo-row."

As he said it, his face scrunched up. The bridge of his nose turned into wrinkles. She wondered whether when he did that, his scars felt frozen on his face. Was it painful to smile? Or to leave his face neutral?

Rosalie jumped slightly as his fingernail ran lightly down her covered up arm. The material of her clothes was thin enough that she could feel his nails against her skin. The feeling left goosebumps down her flesh. She hadn't been touched on her arm since the doctors had operated on her.

As he began to untie her arms from the chair she closed her eyes. She didn't want to see his own if he looked up at her. Her heart was pounding but she couldn't be sure as to what it was that it was pounding about.

As she felt the cool air bite her skin she heard him collect his clothing. The sound of a belt buckle clanging against itself sounded. Still, her eyes remained shut. She heard him pace halfway towards the door in loud steps and then suddenly he stopped.

Rosalie tried to control her breathing. She knew he was watching her. He had stopped so suddenly and fluently on purpose, to let her know he was watching. The pacing resumed and she heard him open and shut the door quietly. It wasn't until the pacing echoed down the hall that she opened her eyes.

The entire apartment seemed different now. Tainted even. How had she got into this mess? And why was it exciting her? Would she go back to the shop again?

Something in her mind clicked. As she sat there, her arms still resting on the handles as if she were a queen she smiled. Of course she would.


End file.
